


On The Eve

by Mariabella Baggins (AgentFrostbite)



Series: The Dragon Riders of Middle Earth [3]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: But Thorin's coming around, Creative License, Dwarves don't like dragons, F/M, Female Bilbo Baggins, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Hobbit family drama, Hobbits train dragons, Less hijinks and more shipping, Mutual Pining, Romantic Flight 2.0, Slow Burn, Will I ever stop adding tags?, probably not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 07:45:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18752065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentFrostbite/pseuds/Mariabella%20Baggins
Summary: After sending word to Erebor of the attacks on the delegation, the Hobbits wait with baited breath to hear back from King Thror about whether or not the negotiations will continue. They will, to everyone's relief, but there happens to be a certain string attached that Thorin isn't sure about.Then again, Thorin doesn't seem to be sure of anything these days.





	On The Eve

**Author's Note:**

> HEY, LOOK, I STILL MANAGED TO POST TODAY  
> Whew, it's been a week. I finished out American Heritage Girls on Sunday, after an AMAZING 7 years (which is why I didn't post Sunday), and then I had school and college stuff to do yesterday, which is why I didn't post yesterday, but despite having a college stuff meeting today, I managed to pound out a bit more than half of this fic and post it!
> 
> Also, more shippy stuff! I promise there's actual plot coming in the next one, but for now, enjoy some setting up of situations (and characters).

  "We have received word from Erebor," Thorin announced. The entire room sat at attention, more so than usual, waiting for the Crown Prince to seal the Shire's fate. "They will allow the negotiations to continue." The Hobbits, rather visibly, relaxed. All except for Gerontius, who could hear the 'but' on the tail end. "However…they wish them to continue in Erebor."

  "We can do that," Gerontius said before anyone else had the chance to speak. He got a couple strange looks, but he held the Prince's gaze. "Will we be permitted to bring our dragons? For protection."

  "Yes, under the express condition that you bring Miss Baggins with you," Thorin answered. 

  "We'll prepare to leave right away," Gerontius replied. The Dwarf nodded, then he and his companions left. As soon as they were out of earshot, every Hobbit in the room turned to him. "We _need_ this alliance, and we all know it. Now, I'm willing to agree to anything within reason, and there's no shame in any of you not being able to do the same. Anyone who doesn't want to go to Erebor, speak now, and we'll have everything arranged properly."

  There was a beat of silence as everyone looked at each other, weighing their options. In the end, every one of them, however reluctantly, agreed. "Then return to your families and let them know. If any of them veto your leaving, there's no shame in that, either. I'll see you all in the morning."

* * *

   "I'm _what_?" Bella had just been let out of bed and back into her own house, now that her lungs and throat were working perfectly well again. Her ears, on the other hand, might need checking. "They want _me_ to go to Erebor?"

  "As far as I can gather, Thror wants to see the great dragon charmer for himself," Gerontius confirmed. He sat at one head of the table, and Mungo Baggins, the current head of the Baggins family, was seated at the other, leveling an even stare at everyone. "And I think the Dwarven Council would feel more comfortable knowing there would be someone there who can handle the dragons."

  "You're a Master Tamer, too," Mungo pointed out. Beside him, Laura watched the entire table cautiously. Her sister, Adamanta, simply watched Mungo. The two had always had interesting opinions about the other's husband. "Why can't you go and she stay?"

  "Because I did not leap through a window onto a Night Fury's back to rescue the Crown Prince from a Deadly Nadder, and I did not run into a smoke-filled room and come out clutching a Rattling Smokebreath," Gerontius explained simply, with a rather clipped tone. Like their wives, the two men had always had very differing opinions on how Bella should be brought up and what she should do with her life. Bella herself embraced both Tookish adventure and Baggins sensibility, which was why she was a teacher – a very Respectable job – at the Riding Academy – satisfying her Tookish side. After having tried both extremes of her family trees, of course.

  Though it had rarely been the easy way, and there was quite a bit of effort put into juggling everything, she'd always managed to find a somewhat happy middle ground. This time, there would be no mediation. She must choose a side. Go or stay. Heart or head.

  Took or Baggins.

  "The choice is yours, Bella, dear," Laura spoke up. "We'll still love you, whatever you pick." Bella nodded and smiled, but pursed her lips. It wasn't really much of a question what she was going to pick. The question was how she'd make up for it.

  "I'm going."

  And that was that.

* * *

   It certainly wasn't the first time Mariabella Baggins had kept him from sleeping, and he highly doubted it would be the last. Once again, Thorin was faced with the decision on whether to toss and turn uselessly for the next hour, or get up and wander until his mind calmed enough for him to sleep.

  And, once again, he chose to wander.

  The vast, green fields of the Shire lent themselves to deep thought and contemplation, which seemed rather oxymoronic, considering said fields were often full of chattering Hobbits and their noisy pets. Perhaps it was just because it was nighttime and most everyone was asleep. There was the occasional Hobbit walking back to their houses, and there were a handful of dragons soaring past the stars above him, but by and large, he had the confusing dirt road to himself. Rather more conducive for thinking than were even the most deserted halls in Erebor. That brought up another problem.

  He knew that his grandfather was eager to meet the 'dragon-charmer.' That made him a little… Not quite nervous. It wasn't that strong. Unsettled, maybe, but that wasn't quite strong enough. He had that dreadful feeling one gets when they hear about some kind of accident involving rather dangerous and explosive things, where everything hangs on the knife edge of disaster, and one knows it's likely to end on the disaster side of that fine line.

  Those days, the only thing his grandfather ever got eager over was the amassing of wealth. With Thorin gone, it fell to Frerin to try to steer Thror away from his rapidly expanding treasure hall and to the important business of actually running Erebor. No doubt that he'd have several things to address when he got home, all of which would need to be handled _before_ they could move the negotiations forward, which would result in impatient Hobbits. He wanted everyone back where they were supposed to be as quickly as possible, because the less reminders that these new allies were reliant on Dwarves' second-oldest enemy, the better everything would be.

  Unless Thror tried to keep Miss Baggins there, as the resident dragon-charmer. Mahal knew they needed one, and Thorin knew there was no-one better – or, if there was, he hadn't seen them yet. But try as he might, Thorin couldn't puzzle out why Thror could possibly want anything to do with dragons. The great wyrms of the North, the fire-drakes of old, were greedy, hoarding creatures. And even he, in his clear state of mind, still had a hard time separating those beasts from the ones that roamed freely about the Shire. How could Thror, suffering dragon-sickness, differentiate?

  He received no answers, and he wasn't sure if that made him more or less uneasy.

  His long walk in deep thought was cut short when he almost ran straight into a sign. After a discreet look around to ensure no-one saw the Crown Prince of Erebor narrowly avoid making a complete fool of himself, he came to the swift and very unwelcome conclusion that he was lost. Turning around, he started back down the road he'd taken to get there, and did fairly well until the first fork in the road. The easy method of determining which path he'd taken – which was, rather simply, to jog several steps down each one, do an about-face, and see which angle looked more familiar – proved useless, as he hadn't even noticed he was taking a fork while mulling over Thror and dragons and official matters.

  "Mahal spare me," he muttered as he picked the road that looked like it led further southeast. It did nothing but get him even more lost, and after what he judged to be another two hours of walking, he declared himself well and truly lost. He wasn't even sure _where_ in this confusing rabbit warren he was.

  So he picked the only house with a light on and marched toward it, trying to placate his bruised pride with the dreadful idea of spending an entire night wandering aimlessly. The walk up the hill wasn't so bad, and he had a nice view of the Shire from the top of it. The sprawling branches of the oak tree blocked the waning moon's light, which filtered through the leaves and painted ever-shifting patterns on the smial it towered over. The round green door was, as most Hobbit doors were, inviting if a bit strange. The rows of neatly tended flowers swayed in the warm late-spring breeze. He knocked on the door, then stepped back to wait for the occupant to answer.

  He was, of course, rather floored when it was none other than Miss Baggins herself that opened the door. She was as surprised to see him. "Prince Thorin." She gave a standard curtsey that, had the other Dwarves been there, they might've thought was just a little too shallow. Not that he cared. He might've been royalty, but he wasn't puffed up about it. "How can I help you?"

  "I, um…" It was more difficult than expected to force the words out. After almost a minute choking on the syllables, he pinched his eyes closed and simply spit it out. "I seem to have gotten lost." Her smile was warm and understanding, and somehow not mocking, which was a bit surprising, given the highly amused twinkle in her eyes. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to bring me back to the Hall?"

  "I would be delighted," she answered. "Please, do come in." She opened the door wider and stepped out of his way. The Night Fury was curled up in front of the fireplace in the parlor, and the death-bring– …Rattling Smokebreath, was lying in the crook of the larger dragon's body. It was a rather peaceful scene. Fili's scribe friend would've enjoyed sketching it out. Neither dragon stirred when he entered, beyond the Fury's ears twitching. Bella closed the door behind him, and he almost felt awkward about not handing her his cloak, even though he had no cloak to hand her. He'd left quite empty-handed, another thing he chided himself over.

  The Hobbit lass walked past him and through the parlor. He glanced down the hallway in front of him, which took a sharp turn after a closed door near the end. The open study was off to his left, and he couldn't help but be curious about the maps she had laid out on her desk. "Would you like anything to eat or drink?" she asked from a room past the parlor. He blinked and walked toward her. Neither dragon shifted as he walked by them.

  Strange.

  "No, thank you," he answered. She reappeared, tying back her auburn blonde curls. Thorin did his best to excuse the sudden flutter in his chest as merely a spot of nervousness due to being so close to dragons that he had his back to. The Night Fury – he was going to remember its name eventually – perked up when it saw her with her hair in a ponytail and walking toward the room with the closed door in the entrance hallway. Thorin waited for the dragon to get to its feet and bound after her before he followed as well. Bella stopped short and looked back at him.

  "Do you want to fly or walk?" she asked.

  "I assume it would be quicker to fly," he replied. She nodded and started walking wherever she was headed off to.

  "The second Hobbit Rule of Hospitality is to try to make your guests as comfortable as possible," she explained. "I know it's quicker to fly, but after the…joyride last time – which wasn't my fault – I didn't know if you'd be okay with flying again." The dragon – which gave a huff of what Thorin could only interpret as annoyance upon being accused of the joyride – followed just as eagerly, tail flailing around the hallway in such a wild manner that Thorin was a little surprised it didn't knock anything off the walls.

  "Flying doesn't bother me," he said, quite unsure whether or not he was lying.

  The Rattling Smokebreath let out a small, unhappy snarl at losing its bed and blinked sleepily at the house. When it set its eyes on him, a jolt of actual nervousness raced through him, immediately followed by fear as it stood and stretched its wings, showing off the bandaging around its side and its obviously fake leg. Oh, the leg was well made, and had all the range of motion the dragon's leg should've, but that didn't change the fact that he'd actually sliced its leg off.

  In Dwarven culture, one touching you meant death in a month and one scratching you meant death within days. But injuring it? That was inviting suffering into your house. Long, slow, painful deaths awaited the close kin of those that injured a death-bringer.

  Thorin had to mentally chant that it was _simply a fairytale, it had to be, dragons weren't actually omens of death, look at the Hobbits_ , and it didn't ease the rising panic when the little gray and white dragon not only approached him, but settled around his feet.

  "Thorin?" Bella asked. There was another informality. Normally, he was addressed as _Prince_ Thorin, or 'Your Highness.' Bella, on the other hand, treated him as just another strange foreign visitor. His guard would've been asking for her curls for that. Thorin loved it. Finally, someone outside his family and three friends who took him less seriously. Or, technically, he'd have been loving it if he wasn't so preoccupied with convincing himself he wasn't toying with death.

  "Um…" was all he offered up. She returned with the Fury's saddle – and the bouncy Fury itself in tow – and rounded the corner to see the little thing looking pleadingly up at the Dwarven prince. She thought it was one of the most adorable scenes she'd ever seen, if her cooing was anything to go by. It took her a moment to register that he was silently asking for help in that totally-not-asking way of his. She walked toward the creature, clicking her tongue twice.

  "C'mere, Lucky," she called. It glanced at her, then looked to Thorin. "Oh, dear. I think he likes you."

  "Uh-huh," Thorin replied. The Smokebreath chittered sadly, but obeyed his mistress and scuttered across the floor to her. Strangely enough, Thorin actually felt guilty about it. It perched on Bella's shoulder while she attached the saddle to the Fury.

  "Hold still, Twilight," she muttered. The dragon moaned, and Bella shot it – her, he now remembered – a sharp look. Once the saddle was attached, Twilight pawed at the doorknob, actually managed to get the door open, then bounded into the yard. Bella laughed and shook her head, then opened the door wider for Thorin. He offered her a nod and exited. Bella shut and locked the door behind them. Twilight saw Bella and Thorin approach, and stood still so they could mount. "No tricks this time," Bella warned. "I'll be a lot less complacent."

  The Fury snorted in what Thorin hoped was agreement as he climbed on behind Bella. He still hung on tightly when they took off, but thankfully, it was a smooth flight. No crazy tricks or stunts…yet.

  Even he had to admit, it was a beautiful sight. Admittedly, yes, it wasn't as grand as the first flight was, but it was still stunning nonetheless. The roads spread out beneath them, with winding spurs that dead-ended suddenly, twisting trees that reached for the clouds and fell utterly short, and dozens of well-hidden smials whose only markers were the fences and gardens that lay around them. In the distance, he could see the Great Hall, where he and his group were staying, and several other, even larger buildings that were most likely for the care, upkeep, and training of dragons.

  Most wonderful of all was the feeling of perfect freedom. On this Night Fury's back, he was little more than a passenger, a temporary traveler in a strange world, where wind rushed past his ears and other dragons sailed by in the distance. He wasn't the Crown Prince of Erebor who carried too much weight on his shoulders. He was simply Thorin, a Dwarf on a dragon, whether or not he should be there, and no-one could stop him.

  He was beginning to understood why these Hobbits flew.

  The trip was over all too soon, and they landed in front of the building that suddenly seemed to cold and small. Or perhaps it was just him, getting too attached to a remarkable woman who could never possibly want him.

  He, a Prince who had everything and yet almost nothing at all.

  Thorin shook his head to clear these thoughts and dismounted. Bella also hopped off, like she had that first flight. This time, though, their held each other's gazes for just slightly longer than was proper. Bella broke first. "Right. Well, I'll, just be off-"

  "Are you alright?" She blinked out of confusion. "W-With coming to Erebor, I mean," he quickly amended. "I understand that it's a great distance, even with the tunnel, and if you don't want to come, I can…" He could what? Lie and say she was sick? Say the attack took more out of her than she assumed? It'd been five days since he told them of her brash rescue, and there was no way she wouldn't have been better by then. Secondhand illness? He wasn't sure-

  "I want to come," she said softly. He noticed how she had to hold herself back from taking his hands, which both thrilled and frightened him in equal amounts. "I've so often dreamed about grand adventures in faraway places, and perhaps it's my Tookish side running off with me again, but I would very much like…to go." She pursed her lips and stared at the bridge of his nose, rather than into his eyes.

  "I promise you, on my honor, that you will be protected," he swore. He meant it. He would protect her from anyone. Even his grandfather, if he must. She simply smiled fondly and took a step backward, though it seemed to be with great difficulty. "I will see you in the morning, Miss Baggins."

  "Good night, Prince Thorin," she replied. She gave no curtsey this time, instead mounting Twilight and flying off into the night sky once more. As Thorin walked back to his assigned room and crawled under his covers for the last few hours of good sleep he'd be able to grab, he contemplated his rather mixed feelings about Bella Baggins.

  Or, he supposed, his feelings about her mixed reactions.

  And what on Middle-Earth he was to do about a Hobbit being his One.


End file.
